She Crept up on Me
by Emilia Widmore
Summary: It's the year of the 70th annual Hunger Games! Mentor, Finnick Odair finds himself infatuated with the young girl he's mentoring, Annie Cresta, trying to accept the fact that he has to watch her die.
1. Chapter 1

"And so, it is time to pick out the 70th annual Hunger Games tribute!" the loud announcer called through the microphone. I awaited for the name of the girl I would watch die. For the first time in five years, I felt no sympathy, and didn't really care. She was just a face. A player. Someone to be used and discarded in their games.

"Annie Cresta!" There she was. The girl that's going to die. I'm going to have to tell her what do to, lead her to her death. What's a one time victor as mentor compared to the Careers?

There we were. On the train. Annie calmly sitting at the dining table. Food in front of her. An empty chair next to her. Her counter tribute, the young male who's name I still haven't caught locked himself away. He hasn't said a single word in a day.

I sat down, and closed my eyes. Next thing I knew there was someone breathing down my neck.

"Mr. Odair?" I jumped out of my seat, and almost hit the person in the face. I turned around to see frightened green eyes hidden by curtains of black hair. It was Annie.

"Jeez, Annie!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't want to scare you..." she backed up and held her hand up to her mouth.

"It's okay, you just crept up on me."

"So, Mr. Odair," I had to cut her off there.

"Annie, just call me Finnick." I sighed and slumped down, not wanting to look this poor doomed girl in the eyes. Her beautiful green eyes.

"Ok," she took a deep breath, "Finnick, what do I do to stay alive in the arena?" I could feel her eyes boring into my skull, I had to look at her. Just look her in the eyes and tell her what to do.

"Just," I had no idea what to say. How did I survive in the arena? "Just run."

This was it. The day of the interviews. I've just been spending my time eating. I've only seen the tributes, Annie and the other boy who is 12 years old. I found out his name is Arlen. He hasn't said a word since his name was called. Annie, on the other hand has been asking very many questions whenever she sees me, but mostly she's been training or with her stylist. During the carriage ceremonies they made no impression. Every year District 4 tributes are always wearing something with netting, and a trident style tiara. Their interview attire will probably be formal blue dresses with something gold to accent. Can't be any worse than what I wore. My stylist had me completely naked covered in fish netting. That was the last year he was the stylist for District 4.

"Everyone, welcome!" The voice of Caesar Flickerman boomed in the auditorium. He was calling upon the female tribute from District 1, then the male, then he would go to District 2 and so on. It got time to District 4, and Annie was called onto the stage.

"Now from District 4, Annie Cresta!" There was applause, and Annie Cresta nervously walked onto the stage, but she wasn't wearing the normal District 4 wear. No, she looked... Different. Her hair was normal; down and wavy, like she had just swum in the ocean. She had feint blue eyeshadow on, which brought out the green of her eyes which stood behind her curtain of black hair. She had few sun freckles, which weren't covered with this Capitol makeup. Her dress was the last thing I noticed. It was simple. Long, blue, and sparkly. It reminded me of the way the ocean looked during the sun rise. She looked beautiful. When Caesar asked her questions, she answered them deeply and from her heart. She seemed so... unnerved by the probability of her imminent death. I envied her courage.

The interviews went on and then came to a close. The tributes would have one more day tomorrow for extra training, and then the games begin. The stylists, Annie, Arlen and I all made our way back to floor four. Each tribute and their mentor were given a floor based on their District, and had a celebration. Champaign was served, but no one seemed to want any except the stylists. Arlen went straight for his room, I don't even remember what he said during his interview. I took my glass and headed for the kitchen, I wasn't really hungry, but thought food would be a good distraction. I opened the fridge and stared. Then opened the cupboard and stared. I stared for a long time, so long that I didn't even notice Annie enter the kitchen.

"Hey, Finnick," she startled me and I dropped my glass of champaign. I turned around to see her bright green eyes widen as she bent down nervously to pick up the glass. "Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, just stop before you injure yourself. It wouldn't be good to go into the arena like that." I pushed her aside and she just stood nervously while I cleaned up. She was out of her formal wear now, her hair was in a messy bun, and she has big baggy pajamas on. It was kind of cute. No, Finnick Odair, do not let yourself think that Annie Cresta, a tribute to the _Hunger Games_ is cute. Just try not to look at her and maybe she'll just go away. I kept cleaning, and ended up cutting my hand open without even realizing it.

"Oh, my god! You're bleeding!" I guess ignoring Annie didn't work. She immediately grabbed my hand and had some towels pressed up against it. The next thing I knew she was bandaging it.

"Thank you," after a long pause, I finally managed to stumble out the words.

"It was nothing. You were bleeding, you needed help. I was the only one there," she checked my bandages and they were filled with blood, again. "Oh, let me change these again." She got up to go get more gauze, but I grabbed her hand with my able one and stopped her. "No, you need to rest," she just stared at me. I stared back. I don't know if it was the blood loss, or the alcohol, but I could feel my face turn red and burn. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; and with Snow using me for 'business,' I've seen a lot of beauties in the Capitol, but she tops them all. She was simple.

"Finnick, I can rest tomorrow. Tonight you need help." I sighed and closed my eyes. She was right. I had no energy to move to help myself, and I didn't want to go through the Capitol treatments to healing. They were more painful than the injury itself.

"Are you scared?" I asked as she changed the gauze. She didn't pause, didn't tense. Just calmly continued her work.

"Not really," she said after a few moments hesitation. Her hands finished and mine was bandaged as good as new.

"Why? You're basically being sent to your death," I was upset. I thought about my time in the arena. The innocent children I murdered, only to end up a miserable victor, sent back each year to watch more innocent children die.

"For some reason, I'm okay with that." She interrupted my thoughts and I was back in the present. Sitting in this dark kitchen with a beautiful woman who was going to die. "The only thing I'm upset about is missing out on so much life has to offer." She sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. She wasn't distressed, or even scared, no. She was sad.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well I'm 18 years old and have never even kissed a boy," she half laughed when she said this, and her teeth, they looked like pearls shone through her pale lips. How could someone so exquisite be placed in this ugly situation?

"Annie," I got out of my chair and moved toward hers. My good hand went for her face, and I had no idea what I was doing. I don't know how to be involved with someone romantically! I've only ever been rented out as a sex slave to the richest of the rich in the Capitol!

"Finnick, are you okay?" It wasn't just me, her face blushed too.

"Annie, can I kiss you?" Before she could respond our lips met. For the first time since I met Annie Cresta, she seemed nervous.


	2. Chapter 2

Her lips weren't the icy cold I was expecting, as most other lips I have kissed; but they were warm. Warm and soft. They trembled slightly as she tried to keep her head still. I was trembling, too. This wasn't like the lips of the Capitol I loathed. I stayed as still as possible. I just wanted to soak in this moment. Trying to forget this girl was going to die within the matter of a few weeks, I kissed her even more. My bad hand, which was used to keep me up stayed there, while my good one traveled to her face. I caressed her cheek in my hand and held it there. She still wasn't moving. Her lips just robotically followed mine. Though I was enjoying this moment I decided to pull away.

"Are you," I looked at her, her eyes were closed, and a feint hint of tears were resting on her eye lashes. "Are you okay, Annie?"

"Finnick," she took a deep breath, "you're my mentor. I'm going to die. What are you doing?" Her eyes were still closed and she tilted her head toward the floor.

"I," what was I doing? I barley know this girl except that she's beautiful and from the same District as I. I also knew she was sad, she wanted to experience parts of life she won't get to after tomorrow. Well, she's kissed a boy, now. Me. I stole this girls first kiss. This innocent girl's first kiss. If she's only just now had her first kiss, what else could I steal from her? "I like you, Annie."

"Finnick, we just met _four_ days ago. And out of all those days, this is the longest conversation we've had."

"Annie, that doesn't matter. I like you, please," where was I going with this? "Just let me like you, Annie."

"I, uhm," she sighed and stood up. A few tears trickled down her face. "You're very sweet, Finnick. I'm flattered that the sex symbol of the Hunger Games likes me, but this isn't fair. The only reason we met was because I'm being sent to death." Her remarks were someone sarcastic. Maybe I'm just crazy, but I heard truth.

"Annie," what do I say?

"Goodnight, Finnick. I'll see you in the morning." Annie got up, and she was gone. Just gone like that. I didn't know what to do, so I sat there in the kitchen. The effects of the alcohol slowly drained my body and I realized what I had done. I had just added to the depression of a girl in the worst situation imaginable. I'm the worst person alive.

Later, after I managed to make it to my room, I just sat in my bed. Not sleeping, or even laying down. Just sitting. Sitting in a bed made for sleeping, just sitting. I clutched my bloody hand, though it had stopped gushing, there were remnants. What should I do? Will Annie talk to me tomorrow? Maybe I should just go to bed now.

I slumped down and sighed. It was late now, almost 3:00AM. The building was quiet, still. I don't think anybody was still awake. The tributes were resting, and the rest of the people had passed out due to alcohol. My eyes were finally starting to rest, and my lids became heavy. My head still rested on the backboard of the bed, I'm too exhausted.

"Finnick?" I must've fallen asleep. I heard the sweet voice of an angel call to me. "Finnick, it's me," I felt the grasp of reality drag me back to my room. It wasn't the voice of an angel, but of Annie Cresta. Sneaking into my room.

"Annie, you should be sleeping." I was groggy and didn't want to be awoken from what little peace I was enjoying.

"I couldn't fall asleep. I've just been wandering." She stood awkwardly in the doorway wearing a bathrobe over her pajamas.

"Why can't you sleep?" That was a stupid question. She was being sent into an arena for thousands of people to watch her die. Of course she wouldn't be able to sleep. God knows I didn't.

"I'm sorry," she started to walk away, "for waking you up, goodnight." Damn, I can't let her go like this.

"Annie, wait." I got out of my bed, not even realizing I wasn't wearing pants. Just boxer shorts. "Do you wanna sleep in my bed? It's probably softer than yours, and I don't have to stay here," I was stopped when she put her fingers to my lips and climbed into my bed.

"I'm just sleeping," she said and wrapped herself in the covers. "But," she looked over at me.

"Yeah, Annie?"

"Put some pants on." She giggled, and I blushed, but I also obliged to the order. As I slipped into some flannel, I glanced over as Annie was hogging every blanket imaginable, but it didn't matter. As long as she was able to rest before what will be the worst and last part of her life. As I climbed next to her just watched her sleep, her eyes and fists clenching every few moments, I hoped she wasn't having nightmares of what her life would be like in the arena. If she were to survive and become a victor, her nightmares would be even more terrifying.

"Hey Finnick," Annie's voice surprised me, I was sure she was asleep by now. "I don't know how to fight," she doesn't know how to fight. I went limp, and sighed. She was going to the Hunger Games in two days and she doesn't know how to fight.

"What do you mean, you don't know how to fight?"


End file.
